Harry Potter and the Universe too Far
by Rumour of an Alchemist
Summary: Parody. Some horror. Universe-jumping, time-travelling Harry Potter, in search of an ever faster personal best time to defeat Voldemort, ends up out of his depth... Warning! Rated M. Multiple character deaths. ON HIATUS.
1. Part I

(February 2013, minor corrections/revisions made of some errors, including incorrect spellings of 'Dolores')

Disclaimer:

I am not J K Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

I am not H P Lovecraft. I do not own _The Necronomicon_. Or Yog Sothoth.

Further Disclaimer:

This is a humorous story regarding a universe-hopping Harry Potter, who travels to alternate realities to experience Hogwarts and fight Voldemort over and over again... Characters and events may widely differ from canon.

* * *

><p>It was the first of November 1991 and Harry checked the clock on the mantelpiece in the headmaster's study, then punched the air in triumph.<p>

"Yes! It's half past three in the morning. I have defeated Voldemort, destroyed his horcruxes, killed the basilisk, caught Peter Pettigrew, cleared Sirius, _and_ betrothed myself to Ginny Weasley and shaved fifty four minutes off my previous best time. Oh, and I managed to get Dumbledore sacked this time, Snape married to a smoking hot veela, and Lupin appointed Minister of Magic too."

"Draco Malfoy is set, however, to make a fortune from ferret-racing." Harry's only other companion, the Sorting Hat observed.

"Details, details." Harry waved that aside. "Besides." he sniggered. "Given what I've done to his counterparts in the previous thirty eight alternate universes, he's probably earned it."

"Don't you find this whole going-back-in-time-to-similar-universes rather… lacking in challenge?" the hat posed a question at him.

"Out of the last half dozen my dad's been Severus Snape in six, Ron's been a girl and Hermione a boy in two, Quirrell had a turban which was so nauseatingly green it was capable of inducing headaches _without_ assistance from Voldemort in one, Lupin was supposed to be the secret keeper instead of Sirius in three, and Dumbledore and Tom switched roles in one. Plus my wand's been a different wood five times, and Neville misplaced and found Trevor a different way on the train the first year every single time. Oh, and the Dursley's interior décor of their cupboard under the stairs varies a bit too. Uncle Vernon worked in Grunning's technical department and had actually invented a low-energy light bulb especially for my cupboard in the universe three times around back, so as 'not to waste electricity on a freak'." Harry chuckled. "I pinched the design, patented it, and made a fortune. He was absolutely livid when he realised the opportunity he'd missed out on."

"Umm, yes, Mr. Potter, but I or my counterpart hats see what's inside your head every time you're sorted, and your opponents have been practically identical in their inadequate approaches unless you severely provoked them every time. It comes to something when the one opponent who reliably causes you serious grief if you run into her is a woman who wears a pink cardigan and has a kitten fetish. We Sorting Hats have a multi-dimensional awareness of one another, and a number of my counterparts are quite certain that you couldn't cut the mustard – so to speak – in their ends of existence. Of course, I believe that they may actually have a point, and that you probably would be _best_ staying out of their necks of the woods, so to speak."

"Oh really? Harry Potter leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. "That almost sounds like a dare. The next time I perform a dimension-hopping spell, how exactly do I wind up in one of these particular alternate universes?..."

_Predictable reckless Gryffindor stupidity_, the Sorting Hat thought to itself. _Oh yes, this was going to give another Sorting Hat fun_.

* * *

><p>Harry Potter had wound up in yet another alternate universe and once again arrived physically aged eleven and a bit at Hogwarts on Sorting Day.<p>

Okay, the scene looked about what it did every September the 1st, although Dumbledore's dress-sense was towards the outrageous end of the scale this time around.

The first intimation Harry Potter got that something was truly different though, was when 'Abbott, Hannah' was sorted into _Slytherin_, of all the houses, and removed the hat and scooted across the floor to the Slytherin table at great speed looking highly relieved.

Crabbe and Goyle wound up in Hufflepuff, and Harry saw Malfoy give them looks of sympathy. Then again, people who ended up in Hufflepuff often got looks of sympathy, so maybe nothing different there…

Harry was, however, starting to wonder if perhaps he should have actually talked to people on the train this time, instead of locking himself in his own compartment to plan all the pranks he was going to play on Filch?

Malfoy took a _long_ time to sort and ended up in Ravenclaw.

Well, Harry had known _that_ to happen occasionally, usually as the result of himself talking to Draco on the train, but it didn't usually take as long.

And then shortly it came to his turn under the hat.

_Ah, you've done this lots of times already, I see, Mr. Potter, so I'll make this simple: Slytherin or Ravenclaw?_

_Uhh, Gryffindor._ Harry thought. It was where he felt he generally fitted in the best, and it was where his honed strategies for coping with everything worked the most efficiently.

_Far be it from me to waste time trying to dissuade you, but the door of the headmaster's office is always open, if you want a re-sorting at the end of the first year – although it's likely to come at a price in your case. I think I could do with a nice holiday the other side of the Channel at the end of your third year, Mr. Potter._ The hat informed him.

And then, before he could wonder what was going on, the hat had sorted him into Gryffindor, and he had to take it off and head for the familiar benches.

More sortings followed, with Harry seeing some classmates tossed into houses much different from their usual ones, including, to Harry's surprise, Ron Weasley being sorted into Hufflepuff, which he actually seemed _pleased_ about. Harry started to look around for the other Weasleys, and saw the twins were still in Gryffindor, but Percy was in Slytherin. The twins seemed to making rude gestures at Ron, who simply grinned back.

Well Percy in Slytherin occasionally happened, but Ron in Hufflepuff and looking happy about it?

Harry looked at the head-table, and noted this seemed to be one of those alternate universes where Slughorn was potions master and most likely the head of Slytherin, with Snape nowhere in sight. Usually that meant Dumbledore had either let Snape go to Azkaban for being a Death Eater or that he had killed himself out of regret over Lily's death. After seeing so many alternate universes where fate seemed to consistently screw Severus over, Harry tended to feel sympathetic to the man, and it had been several dozen universes since he had been able to work himself up to actually hate the man or go out of his way to annoy him. Not that he wouldn't go after him, if unduly provoked…

Harry looked around at his fellow Gryffindors, and wondered whether he would be able to take another half hour off his time for wrapping everything up?

Then he noticed most of them seemed to be casting nasty glances at the Hufflepuff benches, who were returning their glares, and that Hermione was frantically scribbling things, as the headmaster stood up to give his usual pre-feast speech.

* * *

><p>At the end of the year, Harry staggered back into the headmaster's office and pulled the Sorting Hat off the mantelpiece.<p>

"Just re-sort me, please." he begged. "This stupid Gryffindor/Hufflepuff rivalry is killing me, and it's wrecking everything."

The mutual antagonism of Gryffindors and Slytherins to which Harry was used appeared to have been replaced in this universe with a particularly vituperative lack of good-will between Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Basically, if there weren't teachers in a room which contained both Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, it could be guaranteed that members of at least one house would be trying _en masse_ to hex the members of the other – and even _with_ teachers present an ongoing state of constant verbal sniping and anonymous notes being passed was usual.

And whilst Harry had been distracted throughout the year with an ongoing inter-house dynamics situation with which he was completely unfamiliar, Quirrell had executed reconnaissance and then made-off during the exams with the Philosopher's Stone. Fortunately, it had turned out Flamel had supplied a fake and Quirrell would die as a result anyway, but Harry still felt Quirrell getting alive off the premises with it to be an insult to his abilities.

Oh. And there was no sign of Pettigrew-as-Scabbers, nor, from what talks he'd been able to get in with the twins, had the Weasley family ever owned a pet remotely resembling the rat animagus.

He pulled the hat onto his head.

_Well, you will of course have to give the headmaster – once they restore him – a pensieve memory of this occasion, to back up my testimony. And remember, I need your oath that you will do everything reasonably possible to take me with you on a trip to France at the end of your third year._ The hat said.

Then it went about the business of sorting him into Ravenclaw.

At this point, Harry didn't care that Draco was also in Ravenclaw, and nearly as supercilious as usual at this point on the timeline. Harry just wanted out of Gryffindor.

* * *

><p>Harry's second year saw a fresh-faced Ginny Weasley arrive in the intake of new students and be sorted into Ravenclaw. She was obsessive about magic and magical knowledge, and Harry saw her with some sort of personal organiser, with rubber-bands, pink fluff around the edges, and a bunny rabbit on the cover, but not with Tom's diary.<p>

Bugger. That meant someone else must have it.

Meanwhile, the house enmities between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were heating up. As Harry waited for the Chamber of Secrets to open (this was one of those universes where only an actual blood-descendent of Slytherin or someone possessed by Riddle's diary could initially open it after half a century of being sealed) so he could go in and do his basilisk-killing stuff, he took the time to make sure Luna Lovegood was okay.

Talking to her was always a laugh – especially when it came to alternate universes.

"Do you ever think about alternate universes where your mum killed Voldemort in 1981, you were never 'marked', and there _is_ no prophecy?" Luna asked him.

"Prophecy?" Harry feigned ignorance, as Dumbledore hadn't mentioned it to him yet on this timeline, and last year he'd been too busy trying to stay out of skirmishes with Hufflepuffs or being called a 'house-traitor' by his own housemates to credibly discover it on his own.

"Don't ever try to break into one of them." Luna said. "You probably wouldn't last very long. Everything's up in the air, and previous experiences mean nothing."

Harry was never quite sure if any Luna he encountered was another alternate universe traveller, or just enjoyed acting as if she was…

* * *

><p>'The Beast of Hufflepuff' incident managed to get Dumbledore fired from the position of headmaster at the end of Harry's second year, and saw Cedric Diggory carted off to Azkaban. At least a dozen Gryffindor students had been seriously injured, and one of the Weasley twins killed. It had only been the latter event which had persuaded Ron Weasley (still in Hufflepuff) to inform the governors of just what was going on, so they could put an end to the abomination that Cedric Diggory had cooked up in an abandoned fifth floor classroom in the Astronomy tower.<p>

Apparently Cedric had been reading a tome called _The Necronomicon_ which had given him the idea, and he'd invoked the power of an entity called Yog-Sothoth to assist him in his attempt to decisively win the house war once and for all.

Harry had to wonder if this had actually been the real _Necronomicon_ or not? In the two previous alternate universes he'd encountered a book of that name in, it had been an evil sentient book that was basically about how to create inferi.

There was no sign of Tom Riddle's diary still, or of the Chamber of Secrets being opened.

Harry eventually cracked and asked Draco what had happened with his father at the end of the wizarding war, after he'd pleaded Imperius curse, and to any, umm, 'dark relics' of which he'd been in possession?

"Why he helped the aurors search the Manor and remove and destroy all dark artefacts, of course." Draco gave Harry a look that said he thought Harry was an idiot. "He was under the _Imperius_ curse his entire time in the Death Eaters. Put under it by Peter Pettigrew. Almost destroyed his mind, and a decade on he still has occasional 'bad days' where mother has to look after him. Of course he wasn't going to keep any of that stuff around."

It was at that moment that Harry Potter realised just how completely out of his depth he truly was.

"Uh, Draco. I know my godfather's in Azkaban for betraying my parents, but is there a possibility that Peter Pettigrew may have imperiused him into doing it?"

"Possibly, but since your godfather killed Pettigrew along with two dozen muggles in a fight the day after your parents were killed there's no way you're going to get Pettigrew to testify to prove it. Your godfather got Pettigrew with something nasty that shrivelled his lower body and left him dead with an expression of extreme agony on his face." Draco paused and looked thoughtful. "If your godfather _was_ under Imperius, maybe being forced to betray your parents and knowing they'd been killed as a result finally snapped him out of it. Shame they didn't ask him about that when they had him under veritaserum at his Wizengamot trial, but just if he'd been your parents' secret keeper and if he'd revealed their location to Voldemort? I'm sorry Harry." Draco did actually sound regretful. "Your godfather had due process, and unless substantive new evidence turns up, you can't do anything about it."

There was a moment of silence. Harry mentally cursed. It sounded like this was one of those rare universes where his godfather _had_ managed to kill Pettigrew, rather than Pettigrew faking his own death and escaping.

"Of course, my mother named my sister after your mother." Draco said trying to change the subject and to be _nice_. "She broke with family traditions of star or constellation names, and called her Lily." He furrowed his brow. "However, irrespective of which house she ends up in, I expect you to treat her with a good deal of respect, Harry, when she comes to Hogwarts next September. I'm very protective of Lily."

* * *

><p>Harry found the start of his third year at Hogwarts disconcerting. There was no news of Sirius breaking out from Azkaban, no dementors on the grounds, and no Professor Lupin. The Ministry had replaced Dumbledore (last heard of heading for France) with Dolores Umbridge, and the headmaster's office was now the headmistress' office and filled with images of kittens.<p>

And there was an Egyptian defence against the dark arts professor, and ornate sealed mummy caskets all over the place as 'security measures'.

Hermione was still in Gryffindor, and had attached herself firmly to the surviving Weasley twin as his chief aide in the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff house war, although over in Ravenclaw, Ginny Weasley was doing her best to be a fanatically organised Hermione substitute for Harry and Draco. This Ginny was scary though – especially the fluffy personal organiser – and there was no way Harry was going to fancy her. Draco seemed quite interested in her though.

Over the summer, to get the Dursleys off his back so he could focus on the important stuff, Harry had given his uncle some 'tips' enabling him to make a fortune on the stock-exchange, so at least things at Privet Drive were okay now. This was a universe where the blood wards existed and did approximately what they were supposed to do, and Harry had a feeling that he might well more than need them at some point.

So far, Harry had failed to find and deal with any horcruxes. The diary was in the wind – if it hadn't been destroyed by the aurors who had searched Malfoy Manor – Harry had no means of checking Grimmauld Place for the locket or getting at Bellatrix's vault for the cup, the diadem hadn't been in the Room of Requirement, and when he'd checked the Gaunt shack over the summer, he'd found the place burnt down and no sign of the ring. Either someone else was looking for horcruxes, or Tom had hidden them in different places.

Across multiple alternate universes he'd developed several means of removing the soul-fragment from the scar on his forehead, but unfortunately he needed to be older or to have at least one of Voldemort's intentionally created horcruxes to hand to employ any of them. Well, the goblins _could_ also do it, but he'd found from painful experience that he needed them to owe him a really big favour for him to be able to count on them safely cooperating with anything like that.

So, no progress there, he thought, sitting watching the sorting.

And then 'Malfoy, Lily', came up, and Harry's heart missed a beat. For an eleven year old, she was breathtakingly beautiful, with all the best features of both her parents, and after twenty minutes the hat at last put her in Ravenclaw.

"I wanted to be in Slytherin." Harry heard her complain to her elder brother, pouting, as she sat beside him. "It insisted it was going to put me in Ravenclaw though, 'for my own good'."

Harry had to remind himself that Lily Malfoy was two years younger than himself, and that he was going to have to wait that bit longer before he could conceivably date her…

Harry, of course, spent the year focussing his attention on the headmistress, Dolores Umbridge, and her inquisitorial squads, despite occasional comments from Luna about an experience Eric Weiss had had according to some American counterpart of the Quibbler, some years ago. Unfortunately, the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff conflict and Harry's only being a third year got in the way of his attempts to form a DA – the best he could manage was a Slytherin/Ravenclaw study group.

The headmistress was not using anything remotely illegal like a blood quill either, at the moment, which removed the most efficient means of getting rid of her legally.

Harry sounded out the defence professor, discovered that he wasn't a werewolf, but neither was he a Voldemort supporter – and indeed he seemed slightly anti-Umbridge, or at least so far as his position as a member of the staff allowed him to be – and left the man alone. He _had_ after all taken Neville Longbottom under his wing, which was boosting the Gryffindor's confidence, which Harry always liked to see.

At the end of the year, Harry was to come to regret that. The defence against the dark arts teachers, except in universes where the curse had been broken, almost _always_ turned out to be bad news. Unfortunately, Harry had become used to ones in his third year being generally friendly and on his side, and only ever accidentally trying to kill him.

He and the scarred survivors gathered in the headmistress' office for him to retrieve the Sorting Hat.

"Ah good, you remembered your promise, Mr. Potter." the Sorting Hat chuckled.

"Did you know _this_ was going to happen?" Harry asked.

"I was confident you would attempt to deal with it. Perhaps too confident," the hat said. "Maybe if you'd been in Ravenclaw from the start…"

Harry glared at the hat, but it wasn't as if he hadn't had plenty of clues. The Quibbler had been running increasingly wild articles all through the year.

Harry had made the mistake of assuming this was a universe where Xeno Lovegood simply tried to entertain the public. After all, his wife had still been alive, and that was usually what happened in those universes.

"There wasn't anything more you could have done, Harry." Percy Weasley, head-boy and the sole surviving Slytherin said. He sounded tired. He'd spent the year trying to be the perfect head-boy for Professor Umbridge, whilst covertly trying to fight and undermine her dictates.

Professor Umbridge had been taken care of now… the unassuming defence professor had seen to _that_.

Unfortunately, the unassuming defence professor had also seen to it that practically everyone else had been 'taken care of' as part of his insane plan to build an army of mummies and by means of multiple blood-sacrifices resurrect an ancient Egyptian god-queen, whom he had believed Dolores Umbridge to be a modern reincarnation of – not least because of her fondness for cats.

Besides Harry and Percy, the only other survivors had been Draco, Lily, Ginny, Luna, and Ernie Entwhistle – all Ravenclaw students – and the head of Ravenclaw, Professor Flitwick. The Weasleys had lost two more boys this year.

The worst moment for Harry had been when he had had to fight a crazed Neville Longbottom, in the embalming chamber where sixth and seventh year pupils were being converted into mummies. Neville had become the defence professor's chief henchman, as the professor had managed to use 'ancient Egyptian secrets' to awaken Neville's mother from her coma, and promised him he could awaken his father, too. Neville had been practically foaming at the mouth, as he swung the Sword of Gryffindor at Harry, desperately trying to stop Harry from hurting the man who had brought one of his parents back from a vegetative state, and promised to do so with the other.

Harry had acquired a _lot_ of material for future nightmares in the past twenty-four hours and was going to have to stock up on dreamless sleep before he headed back to Privet Drive for the summer.

* * *

><p>Hogwarts was obviously closed, following the Egyptian business, and whilst Percy had now graduated, the others had to find a new school. They ended up in Beauxbatons, where Albus Dumbledore had managed to get a history teacher job after being fired as Hogwarts headmaster the previous year, and where Filius Flitwick was now able to speedily gain an assistant charms professor position. The Sorting Hat was added to Beauxbatons' collection of 'historical magical artifacts' and Harry spent the summer doing his best to learn French and to ready himself for a year which would feature a hastily rescheduled <em>biwizard<em> tournament.

The Beauxbatons security arrangements were second-to-none. They employed goblins for the tournament security, who caught and handed over to the French aurors the three former Death Eaters who _tried_ to infiltrate the tournament, and Harry had a generally pleasant time sitting on the sidelines for once watching other people run around fighting dragons, riding flying carpets whilst duelling one another, and then compete in an obstacle course where they had to solve riddles and then brew potions as fast and efficiently as possible to bypass problems.

Voldemort was significantly absent from the scene, and all in all Harry judged the year a success.

Which was just as well, as he was still recovering from the horrors of the previous year. The duel between Filius and the Dolores-reincarnated-god-queen was something which still caused him to wake up in the early hours of the morning sweating and shaking, even though it had been Filius who had won.

Igor Kararoff, the Durmstrang headmaster, mysteriously disappeared at the end of the tournament, and Harry had to start using occlumency to block Voldemort out of his thoughts. Apparently Voldemort had managed to resurrect himself without Harry's participation.

The French aurors had worked over the former Death Eaters who'd tried to infiltrate the tournament on French soil, however, and were hot on Voldemort's trail. The French aurors were going to go to hell before they let any _English_ dark lord get away unpunished for sending minions to try and disrupt a _French_ event. And despite the reluctance of the British Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, to co-operate, Alastor Moody had got back in the saddle, coming out of retirement for one last case, and was busy liaising with the French.

Apparently, despite his comments about French cheese, Moody was quite liked by his French colleagues for his no-nonsense _merde_ attitude.

* * *

><p>Author notes:<p>

Written partly in reaction to seeing so many alternate universe Harry Potters where events always play out almost exactly the same way except where Harry himself proactively changes something...


	2. Part II

Disclaimer:

I am not J K Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

I am not Gaston Leroux. I do not own _Phantom of the Opera_.

I am not Bram Stoker. I have no idea if _Dracula_ is out of copyright yet, but I certainly don't own it.

I am not Michael Crichton. I do not own _Jurassic Park_ or any of the sequels.

Further Disclaimer:

This is a humorous story regarding a universe-hopping Harry Potter, who travels to alternate realities to experience Hogwarts and fight Voldemort over and over again... Characters and events may widely differ from canon.

* * *

><p>Harry arrived back at Beauxbatons for the start of his fifth year to a worried looking Luna.<p>

"Harry. We have a problem." she said.

That was the last thing Harry wanted to hear after the eventful summer he had just had. He had discovered that the locket in the cave had been a fake but that the mocking note contained therein had been signed Severus Snape for once (although Harry was doubtful it had been Snape's handwriting), most of the Death Eaters had fled the country in 1981 rather than risk trial in front of Crouch – and consequently were able to rally immediately to Voldemort's banner upon his return, instead of sitting in Azkaban – and rather than dementors (there hadn't been a single dementor officially in the UK since the Dementor Suppression Act of 1985) it had been Death Eaters casting fiendfyre who had attacked Little Whinging during the holiday. True Harry had been nowhere near the scene at the time so even Fudge couldn't blame it on him, and the blood wards had protected everything within half a mile of number four Privet Drive anyway, but the Minister was acting in full denial mode, despite the hundreds of hours the obliviator squads had had to put in whilst 'cleaning up' and the enormous dark mark the Death Eaters had put in the skies.

Oh, and it turned out Severus Snape was the _only_ Death Eater who had been sent to Azkaban at the end of the wizarding war (and where indeed he still resided) and that Regulus Black was still alive and a mysterious but hard-ass political figure, with fingers in almost every pie and allegiances and agendas utterly unknown to Harry.

"I didn't want to know that, Luna." Harry sighed. "Tell me about it anyway."

"I have very limited time and resources to research filler articles for _The Quibbler_ this year." Luna said. She waved a piece of parchment. "At the moment I have on the list Draco's campaign to get quidditch recognised and played at Beauxbatons, Minister Fudge's more mysterious behaviour than normal, odd goings-on in the vampire population in France, and the disappearance of a French research-wizard called Pierre Dumas with a penchant for muggle fiction. I can only research one or two of these effectively, and there may be things missing from the list."

"Regulus Black." said Harry. "Who is he, what does he do, what makes him tick?"

He had a nasty suspicion that Regulus mattered.

Luna pulled a face, produced a stub of pencil, and wrote that down too.

"Alright, I'll delegate this." Luna said. "Which should I pursue, Harry?"

"Can't you get Ginny to help you?" Harry asked.

"Ginny's involved with Draco's quidditch crusade. The same goes for Ernie and Lily."

"Quidditch and Regulus." Harry said. He was suffering from quidditch withdrawal symptoms by now, and he reckoned a quidditch crusade would be a good equivalent for the Dumbledore's Army he was used to organising in the fifth year normally. Get his face known, get himself recognised as a figure prepared to work with the student body against a teacher position. Only hopefully without the equivalent of Dolores Umbridge or blood-quills this time around.

"If you say so, Harry." Luna said. She gave him a curious look, but it wasn't clear if she approved or not.

* * *

><p>During the autumn term, things went relatively quietly, although Luna occasionally sighed and stared wistfully at a report in a paper of yet <em>another<em> break-in to steal amber from some wizarding or muggle venue. Harry knew that she longed to be chasing that, instead of spending what time she had free loyally researching the exceedingly-private-and-mysterious Regulus Black or the history and traditions of quidditch in France and at European schools.

"It's probably just a house-elf with a weird fetish for amber." Harry said to her on one such occasion.

"It's slowing down." Luna said. "Whatever they need it for, they nearly have enough. And let's not forget something was bothering the vampire community several months ago, and there was that research-wizard who went missing. This could be linked to either or both of those."

"Maybe vampires have developed a fashion craze for amber." Harry suggested. "And the market's now saturated. Or some aspirant dark lord wannabe kidnapped the wizard because he had devised an amber-based potion which makes chocolate frogs addictive."

"Don't be silly, Harry. Those are almost _sensible_ explanations. There's something going on here which is much more convoluted and potentially sinister. I only hope it ends up not mattering much in the long-run, but somehow I doubt things will be that easy."

* * *

><p>At Christmas, upon Dumbledore's insistence, Harry took himself off to the Ministry of Magic in London to listen to the prophecy about the one who could defeat Voldemort. Dumbledore had been playing unusually coy about it, refusing to tell it to Harry, but insisting he had to hear it for himself. By the time he emerged from the depths of the Ministry, Harry could understand why. This was one of those universes where the power Voldemort was supposed to know not was actually <em>specified<em>. Unfortunately, due to Trelawney sneezing at a critical moment, it was impossible to tell if that power was 'croquet' or 'crochet'. Harry was leaning towards the former, but he supposed he was going to have to cover his bases and study both. How exactly he was supposed to defeat Voldemort with a lawn game or a variant on knitting he had no idea.

He had taken care of the prophecy orb before he left though, so Voldemort wouldn't be finding out the prophecy from it now.

* * *

><p>By Easter, the quidditch campaign was making only limited progress in terms of persuading the school governors to do anything, and it was clear that there was <em>something<em> odd going on at Beauxbatons. There had been a mysterious singing tutor with a mask and a Persian cat who had been at the school for half a term, tried to persuade Ginny to throw in school for a career with the Paris opera house, and then disappeared promising he would 'return'.

Then there was the astronomy teacher, Ms. Harker, who was a fill-in whilst Beauxbatons' regular astronomy teacher was away on maternity leave for the year. Harry caught her subjecting him to a particularly hungry stare on occasions, and she seemed to have an almost Snape-like ability to pace the corridors her cloak billowing impressively behind her. Harry would have sworn she was a vampire, given her pale complexion, but for the fact that he occasionally ran into her in broad daylight and he was reasonably certain sunlight was supposed to be instantly lethal to vampires.

Still, Ms. Harker disturbed him, and there was something about the name which he felt that he should recognise.

And Harry was sufficiently sick of Voldemort trying to get into his mind by now, that he decided he had to do something about his scar. Whilst he could keep Voldemort out, the persistent attempts to intrude were disrupting his study routine, and he had belatedly discovered that Beauxbatons' equivalent of OWLs were considerably more rigorous than their Hogwarts' counterparts. The mock exams in February had almost scared him to death with their demands on knowledge, and the fact that he was going to have to sit them in _French_ was an additional pain. Harry didn't need the extra hassle from Voldemort right now. The soul fragment was going to have to go, and that meant a trip to see the goblins, whatever the consequences.

Having been helping Draco run his quidditch campaign for the past few months, he _was_ able to get Draco and his parents to promise to assist him with the business, which might help mitigate what the goblins might try to do in exchange for their assistance.

* * *

><p>Harry's trip to the goblins went more pleasantly than he could have hoped for. Sure it had been extremely painful for him – had indeed nearly killed him at one moment – but he was now down one unwanted piece of Voldemort's soul and as far as he could make out the goblins had removed it without tricking him into twenty years of indentured service cleaning out their dragon pens or anything like that as they had done in other universes. Maybe the Malfoys actually had a good deal of influence with the goblins and having them along had helped. That seemed a lot more credible to Harry than the possibility that the goblins might have genuinely wanted to help him for himself for nothing more than a modest sized fee.<p>

And thank-Merlin it _was_ gone as it meant he could now concentrate properly on mastering conjugations of French verbs and otherwise frantically preparing for his exams.

* * *

><p>In retrospect, Harry supposed he <em>should<em> have seen it coming. The previous school year had gone _so_ quietly, from his point of view, that something insane was _bound_ to happen in this one to make up for it.

At least they waited until the exams were over before all hell broke loose.

At that point, having marked all the astronomy exams, Ms. Harker showed her hand on the same night that the crackpot research wizard with a love for fiction, who had gone missing, turned up.

It turned out Ms. Harker was a vampire – _The_ vampire, in the sense that apparently the novel _Dracula_ was actually semi-biographical, and Ms. Harker was none other than the Wilhelmina Harker (nee Murray), who had been bitten by Dracula a hundred years or so before and was the heiress to his greatness. Apparently she wanted Harry, to turn him into some sort of minion, but since he was too well protected she would settle for Ernie Entwhistle instead.

Oh, and that masked singing tutor from earlier in the year turned out to be the missing research wizard, who happened to come along to abduct Ginny on the same night that Ms. Harker made her bid for Ernie.

It got quite messy, since Ms. Harker had brought along a cadre of a couple of dozen vampire minions, and the research wizard Pierre Dumas had been reading not only _Phantom of the Opera_ but _Jurassic Park_ too, and had discovered a magical means to create dinosaurs from the blood sucked by insects preserved in amber…

It got quite confusing since Ms. Harker wasn't sure if she and her minions were obliged by her contract to defend the school from the rampaging hordes of velociraptors and pteradactyls, whilst the research wizard wasn't sure if the vampires were there to steal _his_ prize.

And then some of the pupil's parents started to arrive, some of whom were of course partially or fully veelas…

"We are of course quite used to this." Fleur Delacour, winner of the biwizard tournament the previous year, and an assistant teacher this year, explained to Harry during the battle. "Okay, maybe not the annoying big birds who mess with the hair," she ducked a magically enhanced pterodactyl, and fired a futile stunner after it, once it was past, "but often we get idiots who mistake us for a school of mostly beautiful, desirable, defenceless girls and young women." She screamed a curse as another circling pterodactyl proceeded to deposit the dinosaur equivalent of a bird dropping on her. "You stupid, oversized, rooster! How dare you ruin my dress!" This time her spell was rather stronger, and on target. The pterodactyl dropped and thudded into the ground. So did the next half dozen that came within range of Fleur.

Harry in the meantime was gallant enough to apply some cleaning charms, to repair what damage he could to Fleur's appearance.

Fleur was currently unattached in the romantic sense in this universe, but fortunately for Harry he was already devoted to Lily Malfoy, otherwise he might have found the enraged part-veela irresistible.

* * *

><p>It subsequently turned out that somewhere in the middle of the battle Pierre and Ms. Harker had 'discovered' one another and decided to elope with each other instead of proceeding with their individual pupil abduction plans. They left their respective minions behind, to cover their departure and by the time the aurors showed up, the battle was done and they were long gone.<p>

The whole business upset the French aurors greatly, mostly because the code of laws had nothing adequate to cover attacks involving dinosaurs (nobody had thought it necessary before now) and the whole affair was so confusing, legally-speaking, that they weren't sure if anyone had even technically committed a crime which they could pursue. As an emergency measure the French Ministry of Magic was going to pass legislation to classify dinosaurs as 'dangerous pets' but it seemed unlikely that it could retroactively be applied.

Neither Ernie nor Ginny had been abducted in the end though, nobody had been seriously injured, and a weary Harry headed for bed. Fighting dinosaurs which didn't want to make big long speeches or issue threats but just to chew your face off instead was a lot more tiring than dealing with the Death Eaters he was most used to, and the things moved a darn sight faster (and were more intelligent) than inferi.

* * *

><p>"I don't understand how she was able to wander around in daylight." Harry grumbled to Luna the morning after the battle, having belatedly recalled that seeing Ms. Harker in sunlight had dissuaded him from originally believing her to be a vampire.<p>

"Harry. Have you ever read _Dracula_?" Luna asked.

Harry shook his head. Somehow, in multiple alternate universes, that was something he'd never got round to doing.

"Dracula can walk around in daylight in the Bram Stoker story. He just can't use many of his vampire powers." Luna explained. "Some vampires are just like that. Including Ms. Harker, it turns out. Now if you'll excuse me, but I have to go meet the team of naturalists my father has sent over to examine the surviving dinosaurs we captured. He's going to run a special issue of _The Quibbler_ about this."

* * *

><p>The school year ended without Draco's quidditch campaign achieving its original goal of getting the game officially established as a sport at Beauxbatons. Still, it might have contributed a sense of unity against the invasion by vampires and dinosaurs, Harry tried to reassure himself.<p>

Luna had news for him on the Regulus front:

"There's a rumour he has a mistress – possibly a former Death Eater – and several illegitimate children by her. But because of that he keeps his private life _very_ private, and that's about all I could find out about him which you won't read in a book or paper. Sorry Harry. I _did_ try."

"Could we have done anything differently?" Harry wondered.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Luna arched an eyebrow.

"Err, yes?" Harry sensed a trap.

"I had a word with the Sorting Hat at the end of last May." Luna said. "It thought you were incapable of sinking into a minion role instead of putting yourself at the front of things, and it seems it was right. _If_ you had volunteered to be _my_ assistant, instead of sticking yourself out front, in Draco's quidditch campaign, we could have covered more ground, journalistically. This is Beauxbatons, not Hogwarts, so it turned out it didn't matter much this time, and the French Ministry of Magic and the Quibbler are discussing the licensing possibilities of real live dinosaurs, but it might matter in the future. You don't _have_ to take charge of things Harry. You can play second fiddle to others sometimes and get more done."

It occurred to Harry that Luna actually probably had a point there…

* * *

><p>As Harry was about to head home to Privet Drive for the summer, a pile of books on the topics of croquet and crochet added to the contents of his trunk, the news broke on the wizarding wireless service that French aurors, assisted by one English colleague, had captured the criminal known as 'Lord Voldemort', and that the English Minister for Magic was in a panic over this, having spent the year denying that Lord Voldemort was back.<p>

* * *

><p>Author Notes:<p>

I am unaware if in canon quidditch is officially part of the sports regime for Beauxbatons, but for the purposes of this story I have assumed that it is not. The lack of quidditch in the previous year at Beauxbatons was something Harry (at least) didn't notice so much since it was the biwizard tournament year and he was used to not getting any quidditch in that year.

Thanks to reviewers and those subscribing to this story.


	3. Part III

Disclaimer: I am not J K Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter. I am not H P Lovecraft. I do not own The Crawling Chaos (also known as Nyarlathotep).

Further Disclaimer: This is (still) a humorous story regarding a universe-hopping Harry Potter, who travels to alternate realities to experience Hogwarts and fight Voldemort over and over again... Characters and events may widely differ from canon.

Note: Cardinal Richelieu is a historical figure, but I have been partially inspired by Stephen Marley's version of him, which features in the novel _Managra_.

* * *

><p>After the heady excitement of Voldemort's arrest, the news emanating from France over the summer between Harry's fifth and sixth year became more prosaic as legal proceedings got underway. Voldemort pleaded guilty to ordering some of his servants to interfere with the biwizard tournament, but pointed out that he was technically dead at the time, and since different laws applied to 'spirits of the deceased', invited the French courts to fine him or release him.<p>

The French judge in charge of Voldemort's case informed Voldemort that given the complexity of the case he would keep Voldemort in prison for the time being, but would reach a decision on how to handle Voldemort's plea by Christmas.

Overt Death Eater activity in Britain had completely ceased within days of their lord's arrest, as if the Dark Lord's followers wished to avoid doing anything which might in some way jeopardise their lord's legal position. It _was_ possible that some sort of orders from their lord to 'ease off' may have gone down the chain of command.

The British Ministry of Magic were reputed to be scrambling to assemble a criminal case and to request an extradition warrant.

Meanwhile, Fudge was making increasingly bizarre statements. He seemed to be having a nervous breakdown. He kept on rambling about the stars not being right yet, which most wizarding world newspaper commentators were taking to imply a sudden fascination in astrology.

There were a couple of other incidents, one of which prompted Harry to frantically double-check the wards of Privet Drive and to gloomily discover that they did appear to be working approximately as normal, which did not improve his mood, and he executed a good deal of research amongst records of old auror interviews. And he just about had time to notice at the occasional dinner party Aunt Petunia expected him to attend that there seemed to be a trend of French surnames and accents showing up amongst new neighbours moving in on Privet Drive.

Then it was time to head back to Beauxbatons.

* * *

><p>"Morning Harry. How did the holidays go?"<p>

Luna Lovegood was waiting for him on the platform at Waterloo International for the UK connection to the Beauxbatons Express. Whilst a ferry or international floos had conveyed students to France a decade earlier, these days there was the Channel Tunnel.

"Someone broke into Privet Drive despite the wards and slipped us all a sleeping draft one evening." Harry said. "Whoever it was rummaged through all my possessions, but if they took or tampered with anything I'm blowed if I know exactly what they did. Didn't touch a thing of the Dursleys', didn't try to harm or otherwise mess with us, and it was a highly potent and flavourless sleeping draught they slipped in our stew one night. Other than that the holidays were a picnic. I did some checking up, and you'll never guess who was 'first on the scene' in Godric's Hollow on Hallowe'en 1981?"

"Father Christmas a month and three quarters early?" Luna hazarded.

"Regulus Black." Harry said. "Moody and Hagrid arrived on the scene to find him already there, and promptly detained him. He claimed my parents, Voldemort, and a Potter house-elf were all dead already when he arrived, and he hadn't laid a finger on any of them. Moody reckoned he was lying about at least some of it and said as much to him during interrogation, but Regulus was effectively the heir of an ancient and noble house, and the aurors couldn't just cram veritaserum down his throat. And at his trial for being a Death Eater he said that some of his friends _had_ been Death Eaters, and that he'd gotten exceptionally drunk one night and got a tattoo like theirs, but only because he felt it looked cool. Said friends, of course, all being conveniently dead by the time he was on trial and so he couldn't get them into trouble by having named them as Death Eaters or they contradict him. He walked, with compensation and an apology from the Wizengamot for their wasting his time."

"Oh well, it proves that those fine traditions of corruption and old family influence in our political and court system were alive and well even back in 1981." Luna quipped. Then she grew more serious. _Much_ more serious. "Harry. The Minister for Magic is in alliance with the Crawling Chaos. He's not so much ready for a St. Mungo's bed, as a St. Mungo's bed, a straitjacket and being dosed to the eyebrows with calming draughts. He's so far round the bend that he gives bananas a bad name. Until he gets removed from office, it's a _very_ dangerous situation for wizarding Britain."

"Crawling Chaos?" Harry asked.

"Mmm. Remember that Egyptian business our last year at Hogwarts? It was likely behind that. If you don't know what it is already, it's probably safest just to imagine it as a vast cosmic conspiracy to keep _The Quibbler_ in business by ensuring that there is always chaos and mayhem going on _somewhere_ that we have a reporter. That's nowhere close to a truly accurate description of the situation, but it's a lot more reassuring than the truth."

* * *

><p>Beauxbatons didn't believe in owling fifth year exam results to students from overseas (something about 'security concerns'), but instead expected them to collect them from the school either in person or by means of some duly authorised intermediary. Harry arrived back at Beauxbatons to discover he had done worse in the equivalent of the OWLs than he did in most universes at Hogwarts (which was hardly surprising given the things had been considerably tougher) and that beyond the regular new first year students, there were some other arrivals.<p>

On the staffing side, the previous astronomy teacher had returned from maternity leave and – incredibly – the former Hogwarts ghost Cuthbert Binns had shown up as an assistant to Dumbledore, even though Harry could have sworn he had seen Binns being forcibly (and at the time he had assumed _permanently_) exorcised at the end of his third year by that crazy Egyptian defence professor. On the pupil side for some reason one 'Megaera Wulfra Black' had shown up in Lily's year, as a new student, and one 'Erica Lucille Megine' in Harry's own year. Whilst the latter was an apparently quiet mousy haired girl of Swiss nationality, the former was English and, Harry sensed, trouble. Besides the fact that she was apparently a Black previously unknown to him (could she be one of Regulus' rumoured illegitimate children? She certainly had his black hair…) there was the whole business that 'Megaera' was the name of one of the three furies of classical Roman mythology, which surely had to say something about her parents and their aspirations for her…

* * *

><p>Harry soon discovered why Dumbledore had dug up Binns. Dumbledore was having a hard time of it finding anything out about Voldemort, other than what he could deduce from his own memories, and had brought Binns in as assistance. Given that the Chamber of Secrets had never opened in Harry's second year this time around nor the Riddle diary surfaced, it was understandable to Harry if Dumbledore was having difficulty making headway. Horace Slughorn, Voldemort's former head of house, was dead of course, too.<p>

Unfortunately for Harry, Binns was nearly as boring in the sessions Dumbledore had insisted Harry have in what would otherwise be some of Harry's valuable free time, as he had been as a Hogwarts teacher. Harry forced himself to stay awake through the torture of the ghost's hypnotic droning in case Binns had discovered anything useful, although he noticed Dumbledore succumbed occasionally and nodded off. Binns mostly went on about things which Harry already knew about Voldemort, from multiple other universes, embroidered with details such as the occasion Merope Gaunt had knitted her father and brother jumpers in an attempt to please them, and how a young Tom Riddle often had his blanket stolen in the orphanage in which he lived before he went to Hogwarts and subsequently became Lord Voldemort. Binns gave the impression he considered the blanket-stealing had significantly helped to turn the orphan into a psychopathic dark lord, which Harry privately thought unlikely.

Dumbledore and Binns didn't have a clue about horcruxes. Their theory was Voldemort had made a pact with an entity called 'Hades' which guaranteed him a return from death a limited number of times. Harry had to remind himself of the fact that just because a fragment of Voldemort's soul had ended up in his forehead for umpteen years, it didn't _preclude_ that in this universe Voldemort might have made such a pact instead of going with horcruxes, as Harry still hadn't seen so much as a single authentic Voldemort horcrux.

* * *

><p>Cornelius Fudge celebrated Hallowe'en by signing an unconditional pardon for every single suspected Death Eater up to and including Voldemort for all crimes committed on British soil as Death Eaters up until the start of this October. The reason subsequently suggested in <em>The Daily Prophet<em> for this act of lunacy was that in the throes of his nervous breakdown Fudge had attempting to either 'redeem' or to appease Voldemort. Luna snorted at that idea and muttered something about 'The Crawling Chaos' being the real reason Fudge had done it. Either way, Fudge was out of office and on his way to a long-term bed in St. Mungo's the next morning before November was more than a dozen hours old and his plans to pay all Death Eaters 'compensation' for the trauma of being forced to flee the country or hide could be implemented. It was too late to stop the pardons though.

Albert Runcorn took the helm as Fudge's emergency replacement and announced that, given so many suspected Death Eaters were now free to come and go as they wished, he was quadrupling the auror budget.

"What I'd like to know," Luna said, turning off the wizarding wireless radio in the 'clubroom' occupied by former Hogwarts students, "is how big a settee do they have in the Ministry? I mean all that money has to come from _somewhere_, and the only _rational_ place it could come from is from down the back of a settee."

"They'll probably put taxes up, or divert it from other departments," Ginny said, without bothering to look up from the chapter about a supposedly mythical dragon she was reading for History homework.

"I repeat," Luna said dreamily, "the only _rational_ place that much money could come from is from down the back of a settee."

* * *

><p>There was a commotion mid-morning on the fifth of November when someone left a packet of highly explosive gobstoppers on Professor Dumbledore's desk just after a second year history lesson. Dumbledore had opened the packet and was about to pop one into his mouth when Beauxbatons' head of divination (who had rounded up the head of defence along the way) burst into the classroom, seized the packet from him, and with the assistance of her fellow teacher wrestled him to the floor.<p>

"Tower struck by lightning." the head of divination said by way of apology and explanation to Dumbledore. "The Greek gift. Gunpowder plot."

The gobstoppers were removed to a safe location in the grounds and detonated.

Had Dumbledore put one in his mouth, even with magic it would likely have taken some time to clean the mess which would have resulted from the classroom.

The headmistress launched an investigation into who had attempted to kill one of her teachers, but none of the pupils in the second year class which had just concluded, nor the fifth year class which was scheduled to follow seemed to be likely suspects.

"It was a brilliant combination of charms and potions magic." Professor Flitwick commented to Harry, having inspected one of the gobstoppers before they were destroyed. "Almost reminded me of the Marauders at their height, although their pranks were generally much more light-hearted. Of course, it _couldn't_ have been a Marauder. Black's in Azkaban, Pettigrew and your father are dead, and Lupin's on a sheep farm somewhere in New Zealand. Lupin and I exchange occasional Christmas and birthday cards…"

Dumbledore, somewhat shaken by the incident, cancelled the special session he and Binns had been due to have with Harry that afternoon, but was back to normal by the next morning.

* * *

><p>Harry had just arrived back home in Privet Drive with the Dursleys for the Christmas break when the news came out that since – in light of the pardon issued for Voldemort's past crimes in Britain – there was now no question of handing Voldemort over into British custody, the French judge was imposing the heaviest fine French law allowed, but that upon payment Voldemort was free to go.<p>

There was a picture in _The Daily Prophet_ the next morning of Bellatrix (who had not committed any crimes against French law) in the act of paying the fine for Voldemort, within minutes of the judge's verdict.

Harry idly noticed that in the photo Bellatrix had the head of a snake tattoo visible on the back of her _right_ hand, which if it had been part of a regular Death Eater 'dark mark' ought to have been on her left arm. What more there was to the tattoo was concealed by the sleeve of the dress which she was wearing, making it impossible to be any more certain about the matter. As was common with wizarding photos, the figures in the image were moving. Staring at the photo, long enough, Harry would swear that Bellatrix's tattoo was moving, slightly, too.

Also in the news was that retired auror, Alastor Moody, had applied for French citizenship. He was quoted as saying: 'I'd prefer to be a citizen of a nation which at least punishes criminals to the full extent for their known crimes, rather than one which pardons them and tries to pay them compensation for hurt feelings'. Harry suspected that Alastor had _actually_ probably said something considerably more forthright than that, but that the paper had toned it down to spare their readers' blushes.

* * *

><p>The Malfoys dropped by Privet Drive on Boxing Day, to deliver thank-you notes for the gifts which Harry had purchased them, to compliment Aunt Petunia on the excellent house which she kept on her budget, and to share the latest hot-gossip from the wizarding world with Harry.<p>

"Dumbledore was almost murdered by a pair of socks yesterday." Draco said to Harry. "He was opening his presents in the Beauxbatons staffroom and one parcel 'from a grateful student' had a pair of woollen socks in with particularly nasty variations of the extension, multiplication and grappling charms on. It took half a dozen of the other members of staff to pull them off him, and they had to burn them in the end. Every time one was cut in half, it became two complete new socks! He's been sent to Saint Genevieve's to recover, and has been ordered by the headmistress not to eat or touch anything unless he's certain where it comes from and that it's not charmed or poisoned to be life threatening. First the gobstoppers, and now this; someone clearly has it in for our former Hogwarts headmaster!"

Harry looked at Draco carefully, but his friend genuinely seemed completely baffled by what was going on. Harry's problem was that in his sixth year, if _anyone_ tried to murder Dumbledore it was usually that universe's version of Draco and he or she tended _not_ to use ideas as creative or likely to succeed as exploding gobstoppers or deadly socks.

Sadly, Harry concluded, he was _way_ past the point that it was possible to responsibly bail on this universe and try for a quieter life somewhere else. And anyway, he didn't want to abandon Lily Malfoy.

* * *

><p>Harry returned to school from the Christmas break to find that Dumbledore was now out of hospital and that the headmistress had a <em>very<em> special guest who wanted to speak with Harry – the under-secretary of the French magical state, Cardinal Richelieu. Harry had thought that Cardinal Richelieu was a fictional character invented for _The Three Musketeers_, but apparently not. Although Richelieu was nowhere close to as venerable as the alchemist Nicolas Flamel, the man was a wizard and several centuries old – and also apparently a genuine cardinal too.

"It's an interesting relationship." Richelieu said in fluent English, clearly amused when Harry expressed his surprise that a wizard could hold high rank in a religious organisation. "I of course maintain that my 'gifts' come from the divine, and that it would thus be a sin not to employ them. My colleagues back in Rome and I have some interesting theological debates about the issue on occasions though."

Richelieu did not discuss what means he had used to extend his own life, and he waved aside the assassination attempts on Dumbledore thus far saying it was 'currently an internal school matter, inappropriate for heavy-handed state interference', but made it quite clear that he was disturbingly well informed about Harry's life and circumstances. In a private conversation, with just himself and Harry in the room, he suggested he knew who had entered Privet Drive over the summer and dosed Harry and the Dursleys with sleeping draft and their motivations for doing so. He stated that he knew for certain the means by which Lord Voldemort was prolonging his own existence. He even hinted that he somehow _knew_ that Harry was in fact a traveller who had been through many alternate universes. And then he steepled his fingers in a manner that Harry found highly irritating and looked at Harry over the top of them, waiting for Harry to crack and ask him what the hell he wanted?

Harry was used to Dumbledore being annoying and cryptic across multiple universes, but Richelieu took it to a whole new level. At least when Harry was dealing with an Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, he knew by now that he would usually need the legilimency equivalent of a crowbar or several gallons of veritaserum to force Dumbledore to reveal any secrets. Richelieu had a teasing, tantalising, attitude of 'I know things which could make your life _much_ easier, but _what_ are you going to do for me in return if I tell you any of them?'

And the man was the master of quirking an eyebrow in a manner which had Harry curling his fingers in an effort to restrain himself from throwing something at him.

Harry obliged the French under-secretary, after managing to hold out for almost ten minutes of discussing the quidditch prospects of St. Etienne and making other small talk, and asked him what he wanted?

And Richelieu _smiled_.

* * *

><p>"What's wrong, Harry?" Draco asked, upon Harry's return from his interview with the under-secretary to the clubroom.<p>

"Cardinal Richelieu wants me to make a public statement that I think the French aurors do a great job." Harry said gloomily.

"But they _do_ do a great job." Ernie pointed out. "You said so at the end of the last school year, when they arrested Voldemort."

"Yeah, but it's the principle of the thing." Harry said. In almost every universe he had successfully resisted the pressure of various Scrimgeours, Dumbledores, Fudges, Boneses, and even the occasional Black or Riddle – when those personages occupied the position of the British Minister for Magic – to make statements saying that he thought the British aurors were doing a great job. Now he was being asked to do the same by not even the French Minister but the _under-secretary_ and he had a nasty suspicion he was going to cave at the first time of asking. "He's a politician."

"I hope you'll be getting something back in exchange for this statement, if you make it." Draco said.

"Yeah. He promised I could pick between knowing the reason behind the sleeping potion incident at Privet Drive last summer, or he would call in a squad of exorcists to make sure Binns left Beauxbatons. I'm seriously tempted by the latter, but despite his droning, Professor Dumbledore seems sure that Binns is helpful."

"Harry. This is the same Professor Dumbledore who thought that _Quirrell_ possessed by Voldemort would be a good choice for defence teacher at Hogwarts in your first year, hired that useless twit who couldn't cope with The Beast of Hufflepuff in my first year, and who must have at least set in train the process of retaining the Egyptian professor that managed to get Hogwarts closed for good. The man has a gift for hand-picking lunatics or incompetents." Ginny snapped. "Binns is probably planning to unleash that night-dragon thing my class was studying in history last term. He seemed awfully fascinated by the topic whenever it came up whilst he was around."

Harry stared at Ginny in shock, and ran a comparison between what she had just said, and the tone of voice in which she had said it with that of Hermione Granger in most of the universes he had been through. He reached the uncomfortable conclusion that Ginny was probably right…

* * *

><p>It took some time for Harry to make his public statement regarding his confidence in the competence of the French aurors, and for the under-secretary to assemble the team of exorcists. It was in fact Shrove Tuesday by the time everything was in place to evict Binns, and the squad of wizards and holy men arrived in the middle of Beauxbatons' famous annual pancake breakfast.<p>

Binns was outraged as the under-secretary of the French Ministry passed the headmistress the paperwork, and she had to fire Binns on the spot – to Dumbledore's considerable astonishment.

"This is your fault Potter!" Binns spluttered and hissed, glaring in Harry's direction, as he took his leave from the high table, given thirty minutes to pack his things and go or be forcibly evicted from the premises. "But _how did you know_?"

Harry shrugged, which drove Binns up the wall. For a moment he seemed to be about to wandlessly hex Harry, but then a stray pancake dripping with lemon juice hit the ghost in the face, and although it kept on going, due to Binns' insubstantial nature, the moment passed and Binns sagged in defeat.

Harry had no idea what Binns had been doing this year, but it seemed he had indeed been up to no good.

* * *

><p>In the wake of Binns' removal, the under-secretary requested a meeting with Harry again.<p>

For fifteen minutes they discussed the prospects of some promising players Lille and Lyon had acquired, before the under-secretary cracked – or at least feigned to crack – and asked first this time.

"I'm curious, Mr. Potter, as to how you knew which was the better choice?" Richelieu inquired.

"I didn't, but one of my friends did." Harry returned. Then, since Richelieu had asked a question, he figured he was allowed one in return. "As a matter of interest – sir – what exactly _were_ the details of Binns' plan?"

"The specifics are unimportant, but it turns out he was working on hypnotising your former headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, so that he would attempt to sacrifice a student to summon a mythological entity. He was going to make him believe it would obviate the prophecy concerning you, destroy Voldemort and was otherwise generally 'for the greater good' and he had been making considerable headway in bringing Professor Dumbledore around to his way of thinking. It's unclear at this point whether his scheme was intended to harm Voldemort more or to destroy Dumbledore's reputation, but he has been invited to leave France or face some very rigorous questioning from our aurors."

Harry remembered those long droning lectures, capable of putting Dumbledore to sleep, and despite himself, shivered. He'd been lucky he'd been able to resist the ghost's influence.

"Professor Dumbledore will be sent to mind-healers to be deprogrammed." Richelieu continued. "However, it is likely to take some time and that he has played the last part in your education, which leaves us with a problem."

"You're not thinking of Voldemort, I take it, Sir."

"You are correct. I believe that Miss Black had been sent to Beauxbatons this year specifically to assassinate Professor Dumbledore, should an opportune moment present itself, and that she may have been responsible for getting the gobstoppers and the socks into the school and into his possession. Although she seems to be just another fourth year student, I consider it highly likely that she is much more capable than she lets on. Now that Professor Dumbledore has been effectively incapacitated, presumably whatever plots required his removal will now progress. I have no _proof_ of her intentions or actions you must understand – she would not remain in the country or at this school if what scant evidence there is were anything more than circumstantial – but what indicators there are are sufficient that I am mildly concerned…"

There followed a long, uncomfortable silence, broken by Harry.

"Sir…" Harry began.

"You have not spoken to Severus Snape." Richelieu said. "He was a friend of your mother's for many years at Hogwarts, but resides now in the British wizarding prison of Azkaban."

"What does an old school friend of my mother's have to do with anything?" Harry asked.

"Speak to him, Mr. Potter. There is not much point to my answering any further questions you may have, until you have done so. Understand, though, that the French state does not wish to associate itself with any visit you may make to Severus Snape in his Azkaban cell. You will have to go through the normal channels."

Harry hated prison visits to Azkaban. Even when there _were_ dementors there, unlike currently in this universe, the happy-memory-feeding-soul-sucking-horrors weren't anywhere near as bad as the torment of filling in official paperwork requesting a visit – and then waiting months for it to get it processed. Sometimes it was faster and easier to get into Azkaban by committing a minor offence and being sent there for a couple of weeks.

It was probably going to be June at the earliest before he could get to see Severus Snape, Harry reckoned. He sighed. If this were a question of getting memories from Slughorn, a quick swig of luck-potion would expedite matters, but all the luck in the world had little impact on the wheels of ministry bureaucracy surrounding Azkaban…

* * *

><p>The rest of the school-year passed in a sort of awful half-dread for Harry, with him watching and on edge the whole time, wondering if and when something was going to happen, but not sure what.<p>

He kept an eye on Megaera when he could, whilst feigning that it was in fact Lily Malfoy he was interested in, and ended up frequently being distracted because he _was_ interested in Lily.

But besides becoming aware of what a beautiful, charming, accomplished young witch Lily was, Harry didn't achieve much with his surveillance, or at least not in the sense of spotting Megaera doing anything suspicious.

It was possible that with Dumbledore gone, Megaera didn't have anything to do but get on with regular school activities.

The Swiss girl in his own year, Erica, made one or two rather timid attempts to flirt with Harry, towards the end of the summer term, before noticing that his attentions appeared to be elsewhere, and seeming to give up. She resisted, sternly, attempts by Ernie Entwhistle to seduce her, however.

And then it was all over with nothing else of note having apparently happened, and it was time for Harry to head back to Privet Drive and the Dursleys.

Harry wondered if the latter part of the year might have been much more catastrophic had Binns not been stopped from whatever he had been trying to condition Dumbledore to go through with? At any rate, that was one potential disaster which had been averted.

Nonetheless, Harry had a sensation that events had been brewing quietly in the background, and that soon the storm would break to rock wizarding Europe.

And out in the North Sea, this coming summer, he had an appointment with Severus Snape, whom Richelieu had apparently considered it essential that he speak with.

* * *

><p>Author Notes:<p>

This one's been a bit tricky to write as it's transitioning towards the seventh year and some of the things inevitable for a Voldemort/Harry showdown. (This may be an alternate universe, but it's not so alternate that there won't be a face-off between them in the seventh year of some description.)

On the Richelieu front, I'm partially inspired by a _very_ enjoyable Richelieu depiction I came across a while back in the Stephen Marley novel _Managra_, from the Doctor Who: Missing Adventures series. Stephen Marley's Richelieu gets a whole novel throughout which to scheme and plot, though, whereas this one is alas restricted to a few paragraphs in a online fanfiction which doesn't leave much space to have fun. I hope I've conveyed something of a consummate politician and string-puller, in full possession of his faculties, though. I put him in the under-secretary role for the French Ministry of Magic, since he seems to me naturally suited to that position.

Originally, Binns was going to successfully go through with his scheme, and towards the end of the year Dumbledore was going to abduct Draco Malfoy, to try to 'sacrifice a boy named Draco to summon the Night Dragon'. The Night Dragon was going to be an entirely fictitious entity which wouldn't show up, the whole point of Binns' scheme being to utterly ruin Dumbledore, whilst providing an excuse for Megaera to take down Dumbledore in a duel. But it was a rather complicated plot for what I'm trying to do here, and then a chance presented itself to simply pre-empt Binns; and _once_ in a while, even in a parody, Harry and his friends ought to spot something coming and nip it in the bud.

Anyway, thanks for continuing to read!


	4. Part IV

Disclaimer: I am not J K Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Further Disclaimer: This is (still) a story regarding a universe-hopping Harry Potter, set in an alternate reality, with events and characters featured that may differ widely from canon. As a reminder, it is tagged as both 'Parody' and 'Horror'.

Note: This chapter only covers the summer between the sixth and seventh year. It seemed to make more sense to put it out as its own chapter rather than to try and edit it down and cram it in with what's going to be coming in the seventh year. Be warned, Harry is about to have rather a rough ride...

* * *

><p>"What happened?" Harry croaked.<p>

The last thing which Harry could remember was his seventeenth birthday party. Obviously the blood-wards on Privet Drive had fallen by then, but Harry had had replacements which should have been just as good – at least against Voldemort and anyone with a Dark Mark – ready and in place for weeks to save him the inconvenience of having to move.

His eyes were open but his vision was blurry. He was lying in some sort of bed. He thought one of the blurs looked and sounded like Lily Malfoy, and others could be her brother and her parents.

"…Fallen angel… French agents… held off and snatched… only just in time…"

Words were drifting to him, but he was losing consciousness and the world was spinning. There was a foul taste in his mouth all of a sudden, and then he was dropping into a nightmare-infested world.

* * *

><p>The attack on Harry Potter by the fallen angel which had, for the past year or so, been masquerading as a quiet, mousy-haired human teenager by the name of Erica Lucille Megine was easily in the top ten worst experiences of Harry's existence, probably tied with his fight of three years ago with the deranged Neville Longbottom for third place and ahead of such experiences as his first (and thankfully only) sighting of the Beast of Hufflepuff and the duel between Flitwick and Dolores-as-god-queen. Harry suspected it would have made a higher place on the list if he could actually remember the assault in any detail, but fortunately his memory of it was very blurred, restricted to a vague recollection of a horribly beautiful <em>being<em> and freezing cold bright blue flames accompanied by the sensation of his life being slowly sucked out of him, like toothpaste squeezed out of a tube. It was the sort of thing that was probably mind-shatteringly horrible. The Dursleys who had simply been in the same house as it when it had happened had all been reduced to nervous wrecks by the awfulness of it and sent away for counselling with professional magical mind-healers. Three of the four French aurors who had snatched him from the fallen angel's clutches had similarly been sent for attention, despite a lifetime of experiences of tracking down hardened criminals and confronting the aftermath of grisly crimes. The fourth auror, like Harry, seemed to be just about coping, because _his_ mind had blanked out most of the details, too.

The attack put Harry in Saint Genevieve's for a fortnight, the first five days in a critical condition from which he probably never would have emerged without the attention of Nicolas Flamel. Had Richelieu _not_, it turned out, been quietly infiltrating French aurors and agents into Privet Drive ever since the summer of '93 when Dumbledore had been sacked in the aftermath of the Beast of Hufflepuff business, putting a number of brave men and women virtually on the scene when the earth-shattering event happened, there would have been no hope at all for Harry – or probably for the Dursleys either, once the fallen angel had finished with him. As it was, besides the enforced period of recuperation, the attack had cost Harry his wand (which had apparently burnt out during the attack) and the backlash from the forces involved had been sufficient to remotely kill Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, _three times_ in rapid succession. (The latter was probably something to do with the fact that Fawkes had contributed the feather which had been the core of Harry's wand.)

The Malfoys had property close to Saint Genevieve's, which they had moved to as soon as they heard about the attack, and they came by every day of Harry's convalescence to check how Harry was doing; Professor Flitwick also came out several times from Beauxbatons.

Richelieu popped by Harry's hospital bed, on day ten of his recuperation, to see how he was progressing and to inform him that it seemed the attack had originated with Voldemort.

"If there is a wizard or witch _other_ than Voldemort, sufficiently insane, powerful, and evil enough to send a fallen angel after you in particular, then he or she has not yet come to our attention." Richelieu dryly observed. "We have checked most carefully."

Richelieu actually had some _good_ news – principally that fallen angels came _expensive_ in terms of whatever it was they were paid in, and Richelieu doubted that Voldemort would be able to muster the 'collateral' to pay for another attempt for several years. In other words, so long as Harry didn't take up fallen-angel hunting as a hobby, having survived this attack, that should be it from such horribly deadly entities for now.

Harry retorted that he'd rather take up basilisk hunting with sticks of sharpened chalk, to which Richelieu gave a gallic chuckle, patted Harry on the shoulder and reminded him he had an appointment in Azkaban in eight days time, so he had better be out of bed soon, and left him to it.

Azkaban, to interview Severus Snape – right, Harry reminded himself. He wondered what sarcastic things Mr. Ollivander was going to say when he stopped by his shop to try and get a replacement wand before then? Oh well, at least Ollivander hadn't been abducted in this universe, as far as he knew.

* * *

><p>Once he was out of hospital, Harry had <em>tried<em> before he returned to England (in the interests of possibly getting a replacement 'brother wand' made in case Voldemort's had not been impacted by the fallen angel attack) to get a feather from Fawkes, but apparently the phoenix was too traumatised by recent events to have contact with anyone except Dumbledore.

As it turned out, one trip to Ollivander's later, it would have been wasted, anyway.

"Why didn't you tell me your previous wand had been destroyed in an attack by a fallen angel?" Ollivander asked, after Harry had gone through every wand in his shop and stockroom.

"I didn't think it was pertinent." Harry said.

"Due to lingering residue from the attack, Mr. Potter, the only wand likely to function for you as your own for the next few years is one with a core of a lock of hair from either the fallen angel who attacked you or freely given by your true love."

There were times when Harry _hated_ whatever mysterious rules governed wand construction.

He was just going to have to make do with the wand he'd borrowed from the French auror service for now, even if the thing occasionally misfired. It was going to take him _weeks_ to get up the courage to ask Draco's sister, Lily, for a lock of her hair because she was his one true love in this universe, and he needed it for a wand…

Oh well, back to stay in the Leaky Cauldron, for the next day or two, and then off to Azkaban.

* * *

><p>Azkaban, even without the dementors, was still a grim place.<p>

Harry Potter surveyed the man who in so many other universes was the potions master of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, but in this one was a virtually forgotten man in a prison cell.

He looked in surprisingly good health and was relatively kempt for an Azkaban prisoner. He wore his prison uniform as if it was the finest set of dress robes.

"Ah, Potter. You're a dead man, but you look surprisingly solid for a ghost." Severus Snape said, his voice sounding only _slightly_ crazed. "So why have you come to visit me, in my royal apartments?"

"I'm not James Potter, sir." Harry said, coming forward slightly so that Severus could get a better look at his face. "I'm his son, Harry."

"Ah, the spawn. Well, Potter, you may not be a dead man yet, but you are nearly a dead man walking. You have no comprehension of the forces arrayed which could crush you like a bug if you put but one foot out of place. The guards think I'm crazy, Potter, but I am _safe_ here, Potter. This is the last place that almost anyone will come looking for me. I am a prisoner of Azkaban, and therefore surely harmless, and conveniently ignorable. Unlike generations of Potters, I feel no need to parade myself or hog the limelight."

"Sir. A very clever man recommended that I come here and talk to you. He seemed to think that you might be able to help me in some way."

"Clearly not Albus Dumbledore then." Severus Snape cast a rapid appraising glance over Harry, and sneered. "He is hardly clever, and besides, I gather that even the dumbest of public officials have recently recognised that he has gone gaga. Professor Binns managed to force everyone to recognise his inherent madness." He grinned at the thought. "But I have little interest in assisting the son of James Potter.

Harry tried not to show his shock at the reference to Dumbledore. Apparently Severus Snape was, somehow, relatively well informed of current events.

"I'm not just the son of James Potter, though, sir." Harry said earnestly. "I'm the son of Lily, whom you knew at school and was, I gather, one of your best friends for the majority of your time at Hogwarts. For the sake of my dead mother, sir, won't you help her son?"

Harry was not expecting Severus Snape's reaction. The man stared at him for a moment, and then threw back his head and started laughing uproariously.

"The look on your face. You don't know." Tears of mirth rolled down Severus Snape's cheeks. "You honestly don't know, do you, Potter? I speak to your mother at least once a month. She brings me news of the outside world and her doings."

"What? Her ghost visits you in Azkaban?"

"Her ghost, Potter? That would be _kind_ to you if I lied and pretended it was her ghost. No, Potter, your mother, Lily, is alive and well and the mistress of Regulus Black. She finds me a useful confessor, to whom to spill her deepest, darkest, secrets – a confidante who isn't going anywhere, and whose words, even if I broke silence, would be dismissed as the ravings of a deranged lunatic. And she has some _dark_ secrets these days, oh how she does. She's spent years immersed in the Black library, and is a veritable living, breathing, encyclopedia of the dark arts. Twenty years ago I'd have sold my soul to see her so. Now, I mourn the tragedy of her lost innocence, but console myself that at least she is alive, loved, and rising in power with the passing of every year."

* * *

><p>For a while longer, Severus Snape continued to rant and boast about Lily. He seemed a torn man, simultaneously proud and revolted by what she had become. He explained to Harry that the Dark Lord had promised Severus he would not kill her, but that he regarded Snape's pleas for Lily's life as treachery to the cause and turned him in to the aurors because of it. He said he had heard from Lily that the Dark Lord had gone to Godric's Hollow, that night, and held her in an imprisoning spell, whilst he turned his wand on Harry – and how a Potter house-elf had flung itself in the way of the first killing curse, desperate to protect 'master Harry', and the second curse had brought the house down. And he had told how Regulus had found her barely alive in the rubble, and rescued her, creating a fake body from her blood and a piece of her hair moments before Moody and Hagrid arrived, and sent her away to Grimmauld Place where she had been hidden from any Death Eaters that might look to bring revenge down upon her head. And a dark and desperate relationship had bloomed, between Lily and her protector and rescuer, which had turned into something resembling love.<p>

Severus Snape seemed to enjoy telling Harry about her – and how sometimes she brought one of her children to see him – seeing how much these revelations shook Harry. But he would say absolutely nothing about her deeper thoughts, or what she and Regulus planned to do.

By the end of it, Harry could see why Richelieu had wanted him to see Snape. He had no idea how much of this the under-secretary knew, or had guessed, but there was no way Harry would have believed half of this if he had not heard it from Snape's own lips.

He thanked Severus Snape as politely as he could manage, and took his leave of the madman. Harry wanted to dismiss what he'd been told, but too much of it made sense in the context of things he already knew.

He _had_ got in a question towards the end of his allotted time about the locket with the note in the cave, but Severus had just stared at him blankly, as if _he_ were crazy, so either Severus had obliviated himself after doing it, or someone else had done it but tried to cast the blame on Snape – not that Voldemort had apparently ever come looking.

The holiday had started off for Harry so _well_ with some good croquet practice with his Aunt Petunia and an astonishing find in an old junk shop in Diagon Alley, but after his birthday, it had gone speedily downhill.

Harry just hoped that there weren't any further nasty surprises to come before he got back to school. This was definitely the worst summer holiday he'd had in a _long_ time.

* * *

><p>Author Notes:<p>

I hesitated a while over this one, not least because of the fallen angel attack, which was rewritten several times. In theory she was on a 'seduce and corrupt or destroy' mission from Voldemort. (Indeed she had the surname 'Megine' as an anagram of the French word 'énigme', which my dictionary informs me is a suitable equivalent of the English word 'riddle'.) She _did_ put out a few feelers towards the end of Harry's sixth year to see how susceptible to seduction Harry might be, but was rebuffed by Harry due to his attachment to Lily Malfoy. So she waited until the blood wards (which were more than a significant nuisance to her) went down on his seventeenth birthday, and moved in for the kill. Not Voldemort, not dark-marked, ergo Harry's replacement wards were no hindrance to her...

No, Erica was _not_ killed by the French aurors who snatched Harry from her clutches as she was busy 'toying' with him, but she was driven off, and under the rules she operates under, that had to be it (until or unless someone else pays an appropriate price for her services).

The whole fallen angel idea came about since I'm not sure that I've seen a fanfiction where Voldemort ever sends a female in with orders to attempt to romantically inveigle herself with Harry, although I doubt I can be the first to think of it. Anyway, I thought the idea was worth a go (and might well be something this Harry probably hadn't come across before).

Moving on to Azkaban, this particular Severus Snape is insane. Although there haven't been any dementors in Azkaban for some years by the time Harry comes to visit him, there were for the first few years of his imprisonment, and he gets the added bonus of monthly visits from Lily which are also damaging to his psyche. He _wants_ to stay in Azkaban because it's the only place he's certain he's safe from a variety of enemies he's certain are waiting to destroy him. In truth the only person who might want to kill him is probably Lily if he started spilling her confidences, but he'd rather die than betray those.

Severus is at least _slightly_ exaggerating or playing up some of the things he says to Harry about Lily, because he wants to hurt this James Potter mark II (this is possibly the first time this Severus Snape has ever seen this Harry Potter, and this Harry looks much more like James than the Lily Severus sees on a monthly basis) as much as possible.

Thanks for reviews!


	5. Part V

Disclaimer: I am not J K Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Further Disclaimer: This is (still) a humorous story regarding a universe-hopping Harry Potter, who travels to alternate realities to experience Hogwarts and fight Voldemort over and over again... Characters and events may widely differ from canon.

* * *

><p>"I was discussing a project with my mother over the summer…"<p>

Eleven words which Harry had learned from painful experience across countless universes to dread when uttered by Luna Lovegood. Why did it have to be _this_ Luna, in _this_ universe uttering those words in a year that was going to be so crucial, Harry was sure? Apart from double-checking the contents of a safety deposit box he had stashed his junk-shop find in, Harry had spent the last days of the summer holiday trying to figure out how the blood-wards had worked in this universe, given it had been a house-elf that took a killing curse for him. He had concluded that loyal house-elves counted as 'family', in at least the same sense as a mother's sister… but thinking about it too much made his head spin, and for some reason Richelieu had sent him a packet of information for prospective candidates for the French auror service. Was Richelieu intending to call in the various debts Harry was racking up and insist he sign up?

"What is it, Luna?" Harry groaned. He was waiting on a station platform in Paris with Luna, on their way to Beauxbatons.

"Not the reaction I was expecting." Luna looked at him suspiciously. "Have I told you this before?"

"Not in this life." Harry replied. "Go on then."

"Well actually, I got the idea from the Beauxbatons Express, which is of course pulled by a very big specific blue duck." Luna continued.

"I thought it was pulled by a steam locomotive." Harry said.

"It's pulled by a _mallard_, Harry. They have a deal with the museum where it usually lives in York. They slip the curator a bag of gold under the entry desk when it comes close to the start or end of a term, and leave a replica in place good enough to fool most muggle museum goers. Anyway, as I said, seeing as how the Beauxbatons Express is pulled by a duck, and since you and Draco were going on about aerial sports a couple of years ago, I thought why not chariot racing, with chariots pulled by pteradactyls? I mean it's not as if anyone else has found a use for them since the species was rediscovered with the assistance of flies in amber a couple of years ago, and the velociraptors are doing quite well in a niche as novelty substitute guard-dogs…"

* * *

><p>Searching the Beauxbatons Express, Harry found Megaera, surrounded by books in one of the window-seats in the observation car.<p>

She scowled when she saw him approaching, but said something to the other fifth years she was sitting with and they hastily vacated their seats. She flicked her wand accompanied by a _muffliato_.

"There. We have some privacy. I gathered you might show up, since you went to Azkaban to see Snape over the summer."

Harry peered at the books she was studying as he sat down.

"Aren't those a bit advanced for your age?"

"I'm a _Black_." she scathingly replied as if that explained everything. She eyed Harry with seeming dislike. "Do I understand correctly that you are considering a career in the French auror service?"

"Maybe." he said. "I'm certainly thinking about it."

Megaera's scowl was back briefly.

"That being the case, you will be _discreet_, I trust, from the point of view of not wishing to get your future boss in hot-water. And if you have any second thoughts about working for someone _sensible_…" She twirled her wand, menacingly.

Harry found it weird looking at Megaera knowing she was in all likelihood his half-sister, and even weirder being threatened by her.

"Why did mum leave me with the Dursleys in Privet Drive?" Harry asked.

"Did that fallen angel suck your brains out?" she snapped. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, one of the politically most powerful wizards of the time placed you with the Dursleys. Mum was in hiding from Death Eaters and supposed to be dead. She still is on the latter count as far as most of the world is concerned. If she'd snatched you covertly, Dumbledore would have been looking for you at once _and_ whomever took you. If she'd declared herself and reclaimed you she'd have been a marked woman. Initially it was for the best – she figured her sister wouldn't treat you _too_ badly, and later when it became apparent you had a soul-fragment of Tom Marvolo Riddle buried in your forehead, it would have been a liability to have had you around. Once Tom _was_ back killing you became a real option – it would have been a mercy killing – rather than see you turned into some puppet of his. Fortunately for you, when she went to Privet Drive last summer to do it, she discovered you'd already found out what was in your forehead and had the sense to remove it." Megaera paused. "That was clever, going to the goblins." she allowed. "Mum hadn't thought that they might be able to take it out."

Well that confirmed who had slipped past the blood-wards and dosed Harry and the Dursleys with sleeping draught…

In the end, Harry and Megaera reached a sort of truce. Without getting Megaera's permission first Harry would not even _hint_ that they might be related, or that they might share a mother who was most definitely alive, and Megaera would not hex him into oblivion. She definitely had her mother's temper, Harry concluded, and naming her after a fury had been entirely appropriate.

* * *

><p>Richelieu gave Harry a couple of days to settle in and get used to being a seventh year student at Beauxbatons, then turned up at Beauxbatons, borrowed the headmistress's study, and invited Harry along for 'a quiet little chat'.<p>

"You spoke with Severus Snape, I gather, before the end of the holiday, Mr. Potter. That's splendid, as I trust that you now have a better appreciation of some of the intricacies of what has been going on around Privet Drive recently." Richelieu commenced their one-on-one discussion. "Now, shortly after the criminal attack at the end of July upon yourself, a student of a French school, the French magical government put in a request with the British Ministry of Magic, requesting the extradition of one Tom Marvolo Riddle, alias Lord Voldemort, alias 'You-Know-Who', on the grounds that at the very least he was a suspected witness to the case and we wanted to question him. The British Minister for Magic himself, Albert Runcorn, intervened to squelch the request, making a series of uncomplimentary remarks about 'interfering French busybodies', and stating that if there was _any_ case proven to answer, then Mr. Riddle would answer it in a _British_ court, but that for now the man was absolutely free of any crimes or suspicion of having committed any crimes. Which makes it clear that Mr. Runcorn is either under an Imperius curse, is crazy, or is exceptionally stupid…."

Harry tried to think of all the Albert Runcorns he'd known – and occasionally imitated with polyjuice – across multiple universes, and really couldn't make up his mind which of Richelieu's theories might be more likely correct.

"I can't see Mr. Runcorn likely being helpful with the horcrux situation, either, Mr. Potter." Richelieu went on after a moment, seeing Harry had no thoughts to contribute. "It may not come as any surprise to you to learn that Lord Voldemort – as I shall style him for now since that is the name he most frequently uses – has made it exceptionally difficult to eliminate himself by means of devices containing fragments of his soul known as horcruxes. Short of inducing him to feel some remorse, which would pull his soul back together with possibly immediately disastrous consequences for him, there are a shortage of ways to permanently deal with him without hunting down and undoing his horcruxes. We have an expert on him, however, whom we can compel to cooperate if necessary, and he believes that Lord Voldemort may have fashioned a total of six horcruxes, using if possible items associated with Hogwarts founders. Our expert also thinks, and I have to concur, that a seemingly animate snake tattoo currently sported by Bellatrix Lestrange, may be one of Voldemort's horcruxes." (Harry remembered here the tattoo he'd glimpsed in the picture of Bellatrix paying Voldemort's fine, and how he had thought there was something odd about it.) "We have been trying to locate and track horcruxes for a number of years, given the mess the last dark lord made of Europe – at a time when I was regrettably out of favour with the French government – and have, however, run into an interesting obstacle: Regulus Arcturus Black appears to be interested in Voldemort's horcruxes too. Since Regulus tends to keep his own council, we're unclear at this time if he intends to use them to blackmail Lord Voldemort, to keep them as a form of 'insurance', or is just interested in destroying them, but he _almost_ managed to obtain the services of our own expert on the horcruxes."

"Who is?" Harry asked, since that was clearly what was expected of him.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. Or at least the memories of his younger self, which he made into _one_ of his horcruxes, in the form of a 'diary'."

"Wait a moment: You've got the diary?" Harry sat bolt upright. "Are you taking precautions to make sure it doesn't possess anyone? Is it kept somewhere safe and well away from any dangerous snake creatures? And _how_ are you persuading it to cooperate?"

* * *

><p>The French authorities had acquired Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary at a charity auction of the late Peter Pettigrew's effects immediately after the end of the British wizarding war. They had outbid Regulus Black for it, and had had to fend off two attempts by suspected agents of Regulus to steal it, before it arrived on French soil and could be secured under constant armed guard.<p>

Upon learning just who had acquired the diary, Regulus had apparently conceded the field with ill grace, though he occasionally wrote pestering letters to the French Ministry to try and gain access to it.

Cardinal Richelieu assured Harry that it was being adequately monitored, had failed to possess anyone since arriving in French hands, and that cooperation was enforced on days when it was proving recalcitrant by giving it to children too young to have learnt to read yet, along with a packet of coloured crayons, and it being left alone with them to be drooled on, scribbled in, or occasionally been sick upon as they saw fit.

Harry was thankful he wasn't on an opposite side to Richelieu. Anyone who could devise a plan to torture Tom Riddle's diary by giving it to a bunch of toddlers and telling them to draw pretty pictures in it was someone he didn't ever want to cross. Heck, Albus Dumbledore, in all the universes Harry had known him, had _never_ come up with a plan like that. Albus' plans for interrogating the diary tended to involve quills which used diluted solutions of basilisk venom or of Harry's blood for ink.

There was _one_ thing which Harry asked Richelieu if he could check with the diary, the next time he was in the vicinity of it – Harry _was_ curious as to how accurate some of the theories that Binns had propounded might be? Yes, Binns had been a deranged ghost, out to humiliate and destroy Albus Dumbledore – although Harry couldn't _entirely_ blame him for that, as there were some Dumbledores he'd wanted to do that and worse to – but that didn't mean he'd got his research wrong or made it up…

It was only once the discussion was over and Harry had left, that he belatedly realised he'd been so concerned about the Horcrux situation that he'd never asked the wily Richelieu just what his expectations were – if any – regarding Harry possibly joining the French aurors?

* * *

><p>The first part of the term passed relatively quietly, with occasional news coming out of Britain of how the Minister was putting more aurors on the streets, or launching another new 'security initiative' given all those pardons that the Fudge administration had issued to Death Eaters – who actually seemed to be behaving themselves for now. Of course, if they were in league with Runcorn, they didn't actually <em>need<em> to do anything, since he was effectively taking over the country for them; the words 'Police State' seemed depressingly apt to Harry. Harry heard nothing further from Richelieu, beyond a brief written account of a consultation with the diary which seemed to suggest that, broadly speaking, Binns had actually got a thing or two correct about the childhood of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Apparently Richelieu was waiting for further developments before being interested in seeking to involve Harry further in whatever it was he was doing, but Harry had no idea just _what_ those developments might be.

Luna, meanwhile, had somehow managed to persuade the headmistress of Beauxbatons to obtain two dozen pteradactyls to be kept in a specially constructed aviary, and Luna frequently disappeared in the evenings and during odd lunch-hours into a workshop where Harry was certain she was pursing her 'chariot racing' idea. Occasionally Luna's mother floo'ed over to Beauxbatons to assist her daughter.

* * *

><p>Draco's sister had a moderately interesting piece of news at lunchtime on Hallowe'en. A message had arrived for Megaera, with the crests of the British Ministry of Magic and of Azkaban, in the middle of a morning lesson, and she'd had to ask the teacher leave to depart the class, citing some sort of 'family emergency' and hadn't been seen since. Harry wondered what was going on, as there was still no sign of her by the time of the school's evening meal.<p>

The next morning, Harry had his answers, the newspaper headlines of various papers screaming: 'Battle of the seven Blacks!' and 'British Ministry seized in coup as head of Ancient and Noble House deposes Minister'

Apparently Regulus had got his crazy elder brother, Sirius, released from Azkaban, and the senior members of the Black family, Megaera included, had then moved on the Ministry of Magic and removed Albert Runcorn, on some grounds or other involving the Imperius curse and the administration being 'unfit for purpose'.

And there, on the front page of various newspapers, wand held in battle-stance, and striking a pose almost reminiscent of _Marianne_, was a sight Harry had longed and dreaded to see – the woman who was both Regulus Black's mistress and Harry's mother, alongside the two elder Black brothers and several of her children.

He found it rather disturbing seeing just how fierce and battle-hardened she looked.

"Ummm." said Draco, who on his mother's side was related to the Blacks, and who had looked over several of the papers already. "Apparently the head of an ancient and noble house handing over gold so his brother can help with a nifty _coup d'etat_ counts as 'substantive new evidence' sufficient to obtain an Azkaban release. I hope whomever let Uncle Sirius out of Azkaban has the sense to be hiding in a rather deep hole from any survivors of the Runcorn administration right now, though; I imagine Runcorn and his henchmen must be a bit sore about this… Still, Uncle Sirius wasn't an actual Death Eater and probably only helped them under magical duress, so presumably him being out is good news for those who are anti-Voldemort, right Harry?"

* * *

><p>Author Notes:<p>

We progress slowly, etc, etc. I have not forgotten this story. It's just I'm working on several things at once at present.

On with the important stuff.

Luna talking about 'a very big specific blue duck' is referring to the A4 Pacific _Mallard_ which (at least at the time of my writing this, on the 26th April, 2012) still holds the world speed record for a steam locomotive. It seemed to me the sort of classy statement a school such as I imagine Beauxbatons to be would make, borrowing the world's official fastest steam-locomotive to haul the Beauxbatons Express. I imagine they have a matching rake of streamlined coaches (possibly with undetectable expansion charms if more space is needed) to go with it. Yes, they could probably use a magic powered imitation locomotive (as the Harry Potter Wikipedia 'Hogwarts Express' entry seems to me to indicate the Hogwarts Express does by the time Harry Potter attends Hogwarts in canon) but that seems to me to be rather losing the point of using something which resembles a steam-locomotive in the first place...

Lord Voldemort handed the Diary to Peter Pettigrew to look after, in this particular alternate universe, since Peter was the loyal fanatical servant, and Lucius Malfoy was only a compelled flunkey operating under the Imperius curse. When Sirius killed Peter, Peter's effects went up for auction shortly afterwards, and the French government came by it pretty much as Richelieu mentions to Harry.

It probably wasn't necessary to have a 'battle of the _seven_ Blacks', but seven is a magical number and it seemed vaguely appropriate. Given that Megaera (a fifth year student) would have been the oldest of Regulus & Lily's children able to participate, I suspect that the three adults participating (Regulus, Lily, and Sirius) did most of the 'heavy lifting' involved in overthrowing the magical government of Britain.

Thanks for reviews! The rest of the seventh year will be along at some point, hopefully with flying chariots and Voldemort's latest insidious bid for world domination (or something like that). Someone thought it would be funny to force him to watch a marathon session of James Bond films, whilst he was in French custody over the biwizard tournament, which in retrospect may not have been such a good idea...

Update: The _Marianne_ that Harry thinks of towards the end is national emblem of France, considered a personification of the French republic. Apologies for not being clearer on that point. Harry's been attending school in France for three and a bit years by now, and at least some of the culture has started to sink in...

Further Update: Whilst stories of living tattoos pop up occasionally in fantasy literature, the living snake tattoo horcrux in this case may have been inspired in particular by the Doctor Who stories Kinda and Snakedance.


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